Jamieson Wolf
Number-one bestselling author
Love Light – A Short Story
Once upon a time, in the village of Inglewood Hamlet, there lived a Scribe and his lover.
The Scribe wrote stories of love that were so real to so many people in the village and the surrounding townships, many villagers felt that the characters were people they knew or friends that they had known for a long time.
Oddly enough, Jaxon knew his characters better than he knew most people. They were all a part of him. They were wiser than him, more adept at speaking their mind and following their hearts. He wished that it was just as easy for him to do so.
When he met Mikhail, the money lender had enthralled him Jaxon with his kindness and his strength of spirit. Jaxon had never met anyone like him. Mikhail was chivalrous, funny, incredibly smart and so down to Earth that Jaxon wondered if was made from the Earth itself.
They were out one morning, in the pub they had met in, having coffee when it happened. Jaxon realized he was in love with Mikhail. It was as if someone had lit a candle inside of him, so warm was the love he was carrying inside of him.
Jaxon almost dropped his coffee cup when there was a throb in his heart. He realized it was his heart starting again after being still for so long. He must have let out a small noise, for Mikhail took his free hand.
“Are you all right? Is there anything that pains you?”
Flushed with desire for Mikhail, Jaxon shook his head. “No, I’m all right. Just a little light headed.”
When he looked into Mikhail’s eyes, their blue-grey colour seemed to be even brighter than it had been only a second ago. Sparks jumped from his fingers and Jaxon wondered if it was because of the candle inside of him.
When Mikhail noticed the sparks, he only smiled. “This is new. You really are magical.”
Jaxon blushed an even deeper red and more sparks jumped out of his fingers. “Oh, this happens when I haven’t written in a little while.” He said. He wasn’t sure he could tell Mikhail what had caused the sparks. It was too soon, he had only known Mikhail for a month or so. It was too soon.
“Let me take you home then so you can write. One must not ignore their passions.”
Jaxon’s heart warmed even further at his words and even more sparks escaped his fingers. Despite the sparks, Mikhail took Jaxon’s hand anyway as he took him home. The sparks didn’t bother him, even though Jaxon was afraid they would hurt him.
Far from being afraid of the strange changes taking place inside of Jaxon, Mikhail only held on tighter to his hand. The candle flame within Jaxon grew brighter still and more sparkles fell from his fingers.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s causing this.” He said. He couldn’t tell Mikhail the truth, that he was completely in love with him. Jaxon was so worried about doing anything that would make Mikhail run.
For his part, Mikhail only brought Jaxon’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “You have nothing to apologize for. Simply be yourself. You’re a scribe and that’s a certain kind of magic, isn’t it?” Mikhail kissed him softly on the lips. “Never apologize for being you. I’ll see you later this evening, yes?”
Jaxon assured him that he would and stepped inside his small living quarters. Unlike the tent he lived in previously, this new bedsit had walls and a proper floor, places for his books and a desk to write upon. It was a virtual palace to him after spending so long in the desert sands.
Trying to calm himself, Jaxon went to his desk, drew out his new quill and a bottle of ink and took out some parchment. He was writing. He was penning a tale of two men who had come together to find each other, despite life trying to keep them apart.
He wrote for an hour, feverishly filling up page after page of parchment, that he did not notice his bed sit was now filled with sparkles and the pages themselves now let out their own sparks. He was so intent on what he was writing that he didn’t even notice the wind that had started building inside his small nest of rooms.
Jaxon knew none of this of course, so intent was he on his writing. He only noticed when a particularly strong blast of wind came from the pages he was writing on. He was blown back onto the floor as the pages whirled around him. He shook his head to clear it and was startled to hear another voice in the room with him.
“So sorry about that. Let me help you up.”
A hand reached down to take Jaxon’s and pulled him up onto his feet. Jaxon was astounded to look into the face of one of his hero’s, a man named Gabriel. Jaxon would know his light hair, blue eyes and chiseled features anywhere.
“How can this be? How are you here inside my bedsit?”
“Well, don’t you know? Look around you.”
It was then that Jaxon noticed the brightness inside of his home. The sparks and sparkles filled every corner of his home with a light golden light. Jaxon felt as if he could step onto the clouds of light and walk upon it.
“I don’t understand.”
Gabriel smiled. “Don’t you? The light inside of you for Mikhail is so bright, so alive, that it can’t help but escape. It’s in your word, in your stories, in you. You write so beautifully of love that you bring your characters to life.”
“How do I stop this?”
“Why would you want to?”
“I can’t tell Mikhail that I love him, I just can’t. He’ll run away, I’ll frighten him away.”
“How do you know that he doesn’t feel the same about you? You have only to listen to your heart and let your words do the rest. It you don’t let the light out, let it flow, it’ll remain trapped, having to find other ways out of you.”
“What will happen if I tell him?”
“You’ll have to find out. You write your own story. Why do you want to stop it before it’s begun? Be honest about how you feel. It’s the only way.”
Jaxon was about to respond when there was a knock at his door. He turned toward it and then turned back to Gabriel only to find him fading away into a cloud of sparkles that joined the rest of them. Jaxon went to the door and opened it.
There stood Mikhail, surrounded by a shining gold cloud of sparks and sparkles and Jaxon wondered if he had ever wanted anyone more. “Mikhail, I have something to tell you.”
“Me first. I have something to tell you.” He stepped into the bedsit and took Jaxon into his arms. He kissed Jaxon softly and when he pulled away, he was smiling. “I love you.” He said quietly. “I know it’s too soon, it’s too early, but I can’t help that. I feel that I loved you from the moment I first saw you. You are the other half of my heart that I didn’t know existed. Please tell me you feel the same way?”
The candle inside of Jaxon reached a fever pitch and he wasn’t shocked to see that his skin was glowing. He wasn’t surprised to see the same light coming from Mikhail’s eyes, the light of his heart shining through for all to see.
“I love you too,” Jaxon said. “Beyond all comprehension, beyond words. You complete me.”
When they kissed, the light inside of both of them flowed out of them and reached far into the sky. Everyone who saw the light was changed that day.
Ladies who had long pined for other men and woman in the village found them and professed their love. Older people remembered the love they had long ago and instead of being filled with sadness were filled joy. Sailors returned to shore to find their wives and husbands and tell them how much they loved them. Men who had long gone without love realized they already loved someone and went to find them so that they did not lose their chance at love and happiness.
When Jaxon broke the kiss, his bedsit was filled with thousands of little sparks and sparkles that pulsed with light in time to the beating of their hearts. “See?” Mikhail said. “You’re magical.”
They kissed again and Jaxon could hear the flutter of the pages upon his desk as if Gabriel was giving his approval.
Or so the story goes…
When You Are Away – A Poem
When you are
away, I dream
of you at
night. You come
into my sleep
like the wind
and it is
a cool balm
on my skin.
When you enter
my dream, all
I can see
is the light
that emanates from
you, so bright
that I am
momentarily blinded by
you. In the
dreams, we are
hand in hand,
exploring unseen territory,
unknown places: great
expanses of sand
stretching as far
as the eye
can see, meadows
full of flowers
begging to be
picked, caverns and
caves or cliffs.
In my dreams,
we travel the
world together. When
I wake, I
still feel your
hand in mine,
your body next
to me. Though
you are away,
you are never
far from me
as I carry
you inside my
heart. When I
wake, my body
is filled with
light that chases
away the darkness
of night, though
our travels during
slumber stay with
me, clear in
my mind. When
you are away,
I lay down
to sleep at
night and wonder
where we’re going
next.
Choose to Live – A Poem
I was done.
I sat there,
a stranger inside
my own body.
I had a choice
but I didn’t
know how to
make it. I
didn’t know. I
was lost within
myself and what
I had become.
It was as
if my body
had become a
labyrinth and I
had no way
of knowing how
to find the
exit. The forest
was there, the
trees lush and
green inside my
apartment. They were
beautiful but I
knew the trees
deadly. Their leaves
were tinged in
blood. I ignored
them and the
whisper of their
call, turned away
from the lure
of the darkness
that I could
lose myself in.
Everything was finished
and I had nothing.
“That’s not true, though, is it?”
A small voice
spoke from the
trees. I looked
up into the
leaves and saw
a bright eyed
owl. It regarded
me with eyes
that shone like
gold. I shook
my head to
clear my vision.
The trees and
the owl remained.
“How can you hear my thoughts?”
The owl ruffled
it’s feathers and
regarded me with
a wise stare.
“How can I not when you think so loudly? How long has it been since you’ve been out of this apartment?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know. I go out for work.”
“But when was the last time you went out to simply live?”
I didn’t want
to answer its
questions so I
asked it one
of my own.
“How can you come from the dark forest? There isn’t anything beautiful in there.”
The owl laughed,
making a soft
hooting noise that
was like music.
“Oh, you know the forest so well do you? You know only the shadows of the trees, not the beauty that lies within. For even in darkness, there must be balance.”
I shook my
head, so sure
that I knew
more than the owl.
“The forest is only darkness. That’s all it has ever been.”
“Yes, but darkness comes from the absence of light.”
“What does that mean?”
“If it’s darkness that has you down, make light to chase away the shadows.”
“I’ve forgotten how. I’m too far inside the labyrinth and can’t find my way out.”
The owl ruffled
her feathers and
blinked her eyes
at me in
with impatience. She
flew down off
of the branch
and perched on
my leg. She
moved forward and
pecked at my
chest with her beak.
“It’s dark inside your mind, but not in here, where your heart is. You want light? Look there. Follow the light of your heart out of the labyrinth.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it’s not. Some choices in life are hard. However, it’s the ones that are hardest to make that give us the biggest reward.”
“So what choice do I make? I don’t know what to do!”
“Sure you do. You can either give up and accept things as they are, or you can choose to live and embrace life. The choice is yours.”
I thought about
what she had
said and what
I really wanted.
I knew that
this was no
life. I was
living as if
I had already
died. I closed
my eyes and
tried to see
the light at
the end of
the labyrinth, leading
me to freedom.
As soon as
I made the
choice to look
for the light,
I saw it.
I don’t know
why I hadn’t
seen it before,
perhaps because I
didn’t want to
see it. I raced
towards it, the
twists and turns
of the labyrinth
falling away as
I figured my
way through its
twists and turns.
When I got
to the exit,
the light was
waiting for me,
bright and beautiful
and full of
warmth. I stepped
into it and
raised my face
to it, letting
it cleanse away
the darkness.
“I choose to live.”
I whispered softly.
“I choose to live!”
I yelled this,
made it a declaration
of purpose, intent
and meaning. I
breathed in
the sunlight. It
filled me with
warmth that stretched
to every corner
and curve of
my body. When
I opened my
eyes, it was
to find that
the forest and
the owl were
both gone. All
that remained was
one feather. Written
on its plumage
was one word.
Live.
Triku – A Poem
When I think of joy, 
your face comes to mind, fully
formed and beautiful
When I think of bliss,
I think of sleeping beside
you, safe, whole, content.
When I think of you,
I can’t imagine my life
without you in it.
A Scribes Wish Granted – A Short Story
Once upon a time, in the village of Inglewood Hamlet, there lived scribe.
He would tell tales bigger and wider than the impassable sands that bordered the Eastern side of the kingdom. He would spin tales of love that could fill the waters that bordered the Western side of the kingdom. He would write with his quill and paper well into the night, until his candles had burned down to stubs.
Many asked him how he wrote such moving tales of love. Surely there must be an inspiration? He would smile politely and thank them for their compliments, but would say he didn’t know where the inspiration came from.
The truth was, he wrote about what he wished for. There were a few times he thought he had found love, but it was of the darker variety. It would start out light and beautiful like a flower come to bloom, but every time it would end the same way, as if it were a flower with thorns that would make him bleed the tighter he held onto it.
So the Scribe let go of the dream of ever finding love, the other half of him. It was simply the way it had to be. He spent his days watching his friends fall in love and build lives with others. He could see the trees that they had planted together taking root in the ground and growing into gorgeous trees full of leaves. They could not see the trees, but he could. It was part of the Scribe’s curse, seeing that which others could not see.
When the whispering of the leaves became too much for him, he took himself to the furthest point into the Eastern border, deep into the sands that made up the desert. He built himself a small hut. He didn’t need any more space than that; space enough to sleep, eat and write. He lived only for his words now.
On his seventh night in the hut, away from civilization, he received a visitor.
He heard the sound of bells, playing a delightful tune that made him want to get up and dance to their tune. She always arrived this way. He remained sitting and put down his quill. A light began to shine in the middle of his hut and soon, it grew brighter, more vibrant. The light began to hum along with the sound of the bells and, with a small pop, she stood before him.
Her wings didn’t have much room to flutter in the small hut, so she kept them close to her back. Looking around at his living quarters, she huffed out a small sigh that sounded like wind flowing through leaves. “Well, I can see why you moved here, Jaxon. This is so spacious and lovely, it just takes my breath away.”
Jaxon let out a breath. “Good day, Suzanne. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Is that any way to greet your mother?” She smiled and moved closer. “Come give me a hug.”
He stood and did so, holding his mother in his arms. She was so much smaller than he was. Though she was Fey and had the smaller stature like all her kind, he knew she possessed the heart of a lion. When he went to pull away, she held on for one last squeeze and his body was filled with light.
Like all Fey, she had magic. Hers was the gift of light and wisdom. Her touch always brought light in the darkness and made your mind clear when it was clouded. To some, this was not a great gift, but Jaxon knew it for the power it was. She had inspired many an artist, helped many law makers in the land make sound decisions and had brought light to people most in need.
Now, she gave him the look he knew so well. “I’m worried about you, Jaxon. Why do you hide yourself away like this? To what purpose?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, I’ve lived for hundreds of years and have seen more than you can begin to dream of. Really, why do you live like this? You came from magic and have magic all your own, with words that bring dreams to so many. Why do you hide away as if you are nothing?”
“It’s easier that way. I won’t get hurt that way.”
“You are hurting yourself. Do you not want to find love?”
“I do, but it isn’t for me. I’ve tried.”
“Then try again. You have to be open to love for love to find you. When was the last time you went on an outing? Almost a year ago now?”
“Sounds about right.”
“You write of the love you wish for, the love you desire, yet you hide yourself away where you cannot possibly meet any man you desire. Is there no one in Inglewood that has shown you some interest?”
Jaxon fiddled with his quill. “Well, there is one man. A man at the money lenders who I’ve spoken to through letters. His last few missives have become more open and honest.”
“Well, if he’s shown you interest, than perhaps you need to show some back.”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“It’s quite simple, people have been uttering this magical words for eons now.”
“What word is that?”
“Hello. It all begins with hello. The story blooms from there. When do you next go into town?”
“This afternoon. I’m almost out of ink and could use a new quill.”
“Fabulous. Then we have time.”
“Time for what?”
“To clean you up.”
“I look fine.”
His mother let out a small laugh. “I mean no disrespect Jaxon, but you look as if you’ve rolled with the pigs. You smell like it, too.”
She waved her hands and the little hut he lived in was filled with light once more. However, this time he was the source of the light. He was filled with warmth and heat and every part of him hummed with magic. When it faded, he looked down at himself.
His ratty trousers were new and made of a thick weave of cotton coloured in grey. His shirt was new too, and made of a finer weave than his trousers. He even wore a little vest that was coloured in shades of gold and silver.
“I don’t look like me.”
“Yes, you do. You look like everyone else sees you now. Your magic, Jaxon, it’s time you started acting like it. Now, did you need a lift to town?”
“No, that’s quite all right, I-”
Suzanne snapped her fingers and he was standing in front of the money lenders, quick as a flash. He really hated it when she did that. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, filled with his inkwells. He stood there in front of the money lenders, not sure what to do.
Wanting to gather courage, instead of going in the money lenders, he went to a small pub that served some elixirs and foodstuffs. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the pub, he saw a spark of light in front of him.
The man he had been speaking to through letters, Mikhail, was there at a table; and he was looking at him.
It was as if he were propelled forward. With a few steps, he was in front of Mikhail. Though Jaxon had sensed his kindness through his letters, nothing had prepared him for seeing Mikhail in the flesh. Jaxon’s heart beat with something he could not name at first, so foreign it seemed within him. However, after a few moments, he could put a name to that emotion: Hope.
He smiled at Mikhail and said the only word that came to mind: “Hello.”
“Hello.” Mikhail responded
As Jaxon looked into Mikhail’s blue and grey eyes, the hope within him grew brighter. The light inside of him matched the light that shone from Mikhal’s eyes, and that light came from inside of him.
There are those that said on that day in the small village of Inglewood Hamlet, the sky was filled with stars. Others said that surely a great and powerful witch or sorcerer had cast a spell so large it could be seen miles away. Even more said that they saw a bright light emanating from the pub that filled them with every happy memory they had ever experienced.
There was one woman who knew what had happened, however. She looked out from the clouds at the light shining below and knew that the light meant that her son had fallen in love, so pure and powerful was the light.
Or, so the story goes…
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Jamieson Wolf has written a compelling story about navigating multiple sclerosis and cerebral palsy. His story will touch your heart, make you cry, then laugh, and inspire you. A touching memoir with a bit of magic…and tarot! ~ Theresa Reed, author of The Tarot Coloring Book
Jamieson Wolf 